


How Will I Know?

by spacecatsquad



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Sexual Content, Slow Build, Trauma Exploration
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-01
Updated: 2021-02-21
Packaged: 2021-03-12 08:08:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 12,017
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29132328
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spacecatsquad/pseuds/spacecatsquad
Summary: A grim reminder of how fleeting life can be prompts Cullen to finally explore his emotional desires, but Dorian's past trauma and history of heartbreak make him apprehensive to do the same.
Relationships: Dorian Pavus/Cullen Rutherford
Comments: 11
Kudos: 33





	1. Don't Trust Your Feelings

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CW for a brief flashback involving the death of a nameless character. Nothing I'd immediately classify as triggering, but wanted to give a heads up to be on the safe side.

With the obnoxiously loud music and chattering of so many drunkards, Cullen felt extremely out of place in Skyhold’s tavern. It was, unsurprisingly, completely packed with the usual suspects; namely, Iron Bull, Krem, and Varric. Thankfully the Inquisitor and Dorian happened to be there as well, so Cullen didn’t feel totally isolated. Not that it really mattered, though. Conversation was the furthest thing from his mind.He wasn’t much for drinking, if only because it made him a little nervous that he’d fall off the Lyrium wagon. Tonight, however, he had made an exception.  
  
He had spent nearly the entire day penning a missive to the wife of one of his soldiers who had succumbed to fatal wounds yesterday evening. They all knew it was coming. She had suffered a spear to the abdomen while defending a nearby camp from bandits and was quickly brought back to Skyhold. The healers successfully stopped the bleeding and closed the wound. Both Cullen and those treating her assumed she was on the mend. But soon her pain returned tenfold, her breathing became a struggle, and her fever refused to diminish. It became obvious that their attempts to treat her would ultimately be in vain.

Late in the night, he’d been woken by a loud, frantic pounding on his door. He had finally managed to fall asleep despite an intense migraine from his Lyrium withdrawal and he opened the door in a quick, near-violent swing, startling the mage on the other side. His nostrils flared. “Maker, are you out of your mind? What is so bloody important that you couldn’t wait until ––” He froze the instant he recognized the boy as one of the apprentice healers. It wasn’t hard to piece everything together. 

The mage nodded solemnly. “She’s asking for you, Commander. There isn’t much time left for…” He couldn't find the words he had prepared in his head. He didn’t realize how hard saying them would be. “I’m sorry.”

Cullen sprinted down the stairs and into the infirmary with a speed that truthfully he didn’t know he possessed. Mother Giselle was already at the soldier’s bedside, holding her hand. She looked at Cullen and softly greeted him before turning her gaze back to the young woman. “It’s alright. He’s here.” She stepped away and offered Cullen the stool she had been using.

 _No tears,_ he reminded himself. _Not now._ She reached out for him and he grasped her hand with both of his.  
  
“Commander,” she said with a weak smile. “You’re here.”  
  
“Of course I’m here.” _No tears._ He smiled back at her. “It’s going to be alright.”  
  
“No, it isn’t.” Her tone was gentle and sincere rather than angry.

He sighed. “No, I suppose it isn’t. There’s really no use in lying to one of my soldiers, is there? All of you see right through me.”

“It’s not much of a feat. You’re hardly good at it in the first place. She laughed before a fit of coughing overcame her. She clenched her eyes shut and dug her hand into Cullen’s, who gripped it tighter. “Guinevere.” Her voice was raspier now. “My wife. Commander, please tell her I’m sorry.” She couldn’t suppress a loud, sharp yelp from the pain in her gut. “Tell her that she makes me so happy. Makes me feel warm. Safe.”  
  
She stared at Cullen but could barely make out his image. Her vision was darkening, and what little she could see was clouded by the tears in her eyes. “I feel so guilty. Don’t want her to be sad. I love her.”  
  
His grip held firm. _No tears._ It was almost over. He had been in situations like this before; forced to watch comrades or those serving under him slowly take their last breaths. It never got easier. It only grew more and more difficult each time. “She loves you too,” he whispered. “I’ll tell her everything. How hard you fought to protect so many people. How proud we all are of you.” He tried to swallow the lump in his throat but it was too dry. “We’ll look out for her now. I promise you that.”

“Thank you.” Her voice was getting weaker. She felt herself slowly slipping away and no matter how hard she kept trying to fight it, she couldn’t stop. It was as if she was drowning. “I don’t want to die, Commander. I’m scared.” She closed her eyes. She couldn’t keep them open anymore. She didn’t have the energy. Exhaustion was overcoming her and she craved the comfort of sleep.

“It’s okay to be scared,” Cullen said. He beckoned to Mother Giselle with his free hand, keeping his eyes focused on the floor. He couldn’t look her in the eye; he couldn’t look anyone in the eye. “It’s okay.”

A couple of minutes passed as he and Mother Giselle held her hands in silence. When her chest rose and fell for the final time, they placed her arms gently by her sides. Mother Giselle said nothing as he left. She was no stranger to this either. She knew better than anyone how hard this was. It didn’t matter how much faith you had. And it never would.

Intent on washing the memory away from his mind for the evening, he downed his third pint in a few gulps and slammed his mug down with a loud thud, only to accidentally knock it over when he rubbed his temples. A warmth was spreading throughout his body and he remembered now why he never liked to drink. He was a lightweight –– and worse, he was a lightweight who drank like he wasn’t.  
  
He nearly jumped in surprise when he heard a familiar voice behind him. “I see you’ve no intent on pacing yourself tonight, hm?” Dorian asked as he strolled over and took a seat beside Cullen. He’d broken away from the group surrounding Iron Bull and Krem as they exchanged ghastly stories of their past battles and sexual conquests. Thankfully the tavern patrons thrived on tales of violence and sex, as blood, tits, and dicks were the only three topics those two ever discussed with such passion. 

“Not really,” Cullen lamented. An unexpected silence hung in the air between them. He had clearly killed the momentum of the conversation Dorian had been attempting to start. “I’m sorry. I don’t mean to be rude, I just… It’s been a rough day.”

“Perhaps I’m just a master of deduction, but I’ve managed to gather that much.” He gestured towards the mug that had precariously rolled to the edge of the table. “I can leave you if you’d prefer to be alone.”

“No, that’s quite alright. You know I always welcome your company.”“Can’t say that I blame you,” Dorian smirked, “I really am just too irresistible, aren’t I?”

Maker, if Dorian only knew how true that sentence was. Cullen rarely stopped thinking about him. They had bonded greatly over the last few months. It certainly must have been strange to most of Skyhold, seeing a Tevinter mage and an ex-Templar so close; in truth, it felt a little strange for him at first, too. But friendly games of chess led to lengthy talks, and those talks, in turn, led to the close bond they now shared. For Cullen, it also led to an attraction.

Anyone could see that Dorian was good looking. It didn’t feel like a matter of taste or opinion so much as fact. Snow is cold, rain is wet, and Dorian Pavus was frustratingly gorgeous. Did Cullen lust for him? Yes, he supposed he did. But it was so much more than that. Dorian had a remarkable way of bringing him comfort. He made his heart feel weightless and kinetic, like a hummingbird buzzing around in a cage. And more importantly, he made him feel understood.

“Oh yes, dangerously so. Not that I’m complaining.” Cullen’s head was becoming heavier and he began feeling queazy. It must have been easy to notice, as Dorian quickly reached out to steady him.

“Why Commander, if I didn’t know any better, I’d say you were trying to flirt with me,” he said coyly. Dorian stood up and helped Cullen do the same, putting his arm around his shoulder. “Come, let’s get you out of here. You look like you’re just a few moments away from showing us all what you had for dinner.”  
  
He tried to nod in agreement but his head felt like it was full of bricks, so he simply mumbled something incoherent and walked with Dorian in silence to his room. He fumbled with the key and quickly grew angry that it wouldn’t fit into the lock, but Dorian held his hand to help and unlocked the door for him. That small touch was enough to make Cullen melt.

“There we are,” Dorian said as he helped his friend to his bed. While Cullen unclasped his armor, Dorian tugged at his boots, setting them neatly on the ground. “I have to confess that this wasn’t exactly what I had in mind when I pictured undressing you in bed,” he teased. Few things brought him as much joy as making Cullen flustered, and when he began to blush, Dorian decided he had embarrassed him enough for one evening. Besides, it wasn’t quite as fun when he was drunk. “Do you want to talk about what inspired your upcoming hangover?”

He shrugged. _You don’t have to tell him._ Yet, he wanted to –– he _needed_ to. Guilt and anger were festering inside of him to the point it felt painful. Before Dorian, he would have kept this to himself. But now he had someone he was close with, who he could trust and confide in. “I’ve had no sleep because I was up all night watching one of my soldiers die, and I spent today writing a letter informing a wife that she’s now a widow.” He couldn’t stop the tears from welling in his eyes.

Dorian reached into his pocket and pulled out his handkerchief, blotting the tears from Cullen’s cheeks. “I’m so sorry.” He was no stranger to grief. If Cullen wanted to elaborate more on the events, he would do so. He wasn’t about to pry any further. “Did you know much about his wife?”  
  
“Her wife,” he corrected. “And no, nothing at all. Only a few things she said to me last night.”  
  
“Apologies. I always forget that you southerners don’t frown upon us quite the same way they do back home.”

 _‘Us.’_ Cullen knew that Dorian wasn’t including him in that. For some reason, it hurt him. “She told me she felt guilty for dying because she didn’t want to make her wife sad. Can you imagine that? Loving someone so much that your biggest concern of dying is causing them pain?”

“Yes, well… love can be as much of a burden as it can a comfort.”

“Are you speaking from experience?”

He was silent for a few seconds, lost in thought. “No,” he said softly. “What about you, Commander? I’m sure you’ve had your fair share of romances.”

Cullen laughed. “Maker, certainly not! Though I must say that I’m rather flattered you thought otherwise.” He smiled at Dorian. It was nice, being able to laugh. But he quickly felt a pang of sadness as he stared into his eyes. The fleeting jolt of happiness had been replaced with a sense of longing. “No, I’m afraid that I’ve never had much luck in that department,” he admitted with a sigh.

 _Ask him_. Those two words feverishly reverberated in his mind. He pinched his bedsheets, fiddling with them anxiously. “What you said, back in the tavern…” He trailed off, uncertain if he was committed to confronting this right now. He was tired and drank too much. But he was fearful that if he didn’t act now when he had some courage, he never would. “What if I was?”

“What if you were what?”

“Flirting with you.” His voice sounded unusually meek from a combination of both fear and anticipation.

Dorian raised his eyebrow as if he were impatiently waiting for the punchline of Cullen’s insensitive joke. When he realized it wasn’t coming, his face softened. He wasn’t used to being so taken aback so easily. Now he was the flustered one; it was a reversal of roles that he wasn’t fond of. Still, as surprised as he was, he had to maintain his composure. “I’d say you have exceptionally good taste.”

His heart sank at how dejected Cullen looked. It was clear that was far from the response he had been hoping for. Shit. What was he supposed to say? Cullen never gave any indication he was attracted to men. Part of the reason he was so bold with his flirtation was that he assumed it did nothing to Cullen other than give his ego a little stroke. Now he worried that he’d been leading him on this entire time without realizing it. “And that it would be quite the compliment coming from you.”

Cullen frowned in confusion. Was Dorian not the one always whispering salacious remarks and quipping innuendos whenever they spent time together? Was he not the one who seemed to have made a habit out of making him blush from telling him how handsome he looked? “That’s truly all you’d say?”  
  
Hope lingered in his question and Dorian suddenly felt his throat go dry. _Was_ that all he’d truly say? He wasn’t sure. It’s not as if he wasn’t attracted to Cullen; even if his flirtation was never meant to be serious, he knew deep down there was always a layer of sincerity to it. But is that something he wanted him to know? Booze had its way of loosening your inhibitions, yes, but he wondered if he’d be asked any of this if Cullen was sober.

He had no interest in being some sort of test subject for another man to experiment his taboo curiosity on. It happened before in his younger years and he’d sworn to himself that it would never happen again. Worse would be if Cullen didn't need to experiment, that he truly felt an attraction and Dorian reciprocated it, only for him to regret his admission tomorrow and make Dorian feel like a fool. That had also happened before. Routinely. 

“I don’t think this is a conversation we should be having right now,” Dorian said firmly. “You could barely unlock your door and to say you’ve had an emotionally taxing day would be an understatement. You aren’t exactly in the clearest mindset.”  
  
“For the love of the Maker, it wasn’t three minutes ago that you joked about undressing me,” he scoffed. “Why is this suddenly such a difficult question to answer? Have you just been mocking me this entire time?” The bitterness in his voice seeped out like venom; even he was surprised by how hurtful it sounded. He should’ve just kept his mouth shut. He should have known better. “I’m sorry, Dorian. It's just –– ”

“No, I… I suppose I deserve that.” He pursed his lips. Cullen’s words stung but they weren’t inaccurate. Were the situation reversed, he knew that he’d also be angry. He put his hand on Cullen’s. “I would never mock you. But I’m not going to entertain this discussion tonight. You can pretend the question is easy all you like, but we both know this isn’t a matter of simply answering yes or no.”

“I know,” Cullen said quietly. “You’re right, I’m not thinking clearly. I’m sorry.” The awkward, palpable tension seemed to be filling the room, threatening to suffocate the two of them. “I should get some sleep.”

“As should I.” Before Dorian could turn the doorknob and leave, Cullen stopped him.  
  
“You’re not angry with me, are you?”

“Of course not,” Dorian smiled. “Goodnight, Commander.” He closed the door and sighed the second he felt the night air cool him. He absolutely hated lying.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments are greatly appreciated! Apologies if it reads a bit stiff; this is my first go at writing these two and I'm still trying to get the right feel for them. The next chapter will be much more comfortable in flow, for lack of a better term.
> 
> I'm undecided on the number of chapters this will have as I'm still in the process of writing it. I have ideas on how to wrap it up quickly and I have ideas on how to extend it without filler chapters, so the length of this fic will most likely be determined by feedback. But rest assured that either way, this will be updated frequently and will have an ending! I've marked as mature for eventual sexual content.


	2. When I Wake from Dreaming

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A very short bit of smut. Because of its length, I consider it more of a... horny interlude between the first chapter and the next, rather than a proper chapter itself. But we won't confuse AO3's chapter numbering.

“Are you certain about this?” Dorian asked, his voice hushed. It was late and as exciting as it was to imagine a good chunk of Skyhold hearing his moans, he’d rather not give Varric inspiration for his next book. “We don’t have to rush so quickly. It’s okay if you want to take this slowly.”

Cullen grabbed both of Dorian’s hands, interlacing their fingers, and pushed him onto the bed. “Do _you_ want to take this slowly?” he whispered into Dorian’s ear. He kissed his neck, enjoying how the mage squirmed from his lips. “Because I don't.”

And squirm Dorian did. He hadn’t been intimate with anyone since joining the Inquisition. There wasn’t enough time to pursue a fleeting night of sex with one of the many mages and soldiers fighting under them, and the only person that made passes at him was Bull. It was tempting –– he did have an alluring charm about him –– but Bull was only interested in fucking and nothing more. He had grown tired of one night stands and sneaky rendezvous with men too ashamed to be seen with him. He didn’t fault them for wanting something simple or for wanting to maintain secrecy; it’s just something he couldn’t do anymore.

For as happy as he was being in the Inquisition with his new companions, he was starved for the touch of another man. Never would he have guessed the touch he craved would come from Cullen Rutherford –– nor would he have guessed how _fantastic_ it felt. Cullen might have been easy to fluster in conversation, but he clearly had no problem being confident in the bedroom.

“Then by all means, Commander, feel free to proceed at full speed.” A playful growl escaped his lips as Cullen traced a finger down his chest before dropping to his knees and caressing his inner thighs. It was both bizarre and tantalizing how gentle Cullen was. He could certainly get used to this.

Cullen stared up at him with a devious smirk. “You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to do this.” He brushed his right index finger under Dorian’s balls, eliciting an unexpected hum of approval. He tilted his head ever so slightly and wrapped his lips around Dorian’s cock, his left hand still rubbing his thigh. His tongue swirled around the tip but soon stopped after a few seconds, a terribly good tease. He pulled away and looked back at Dorian. “I want you to fuck my face.”

“Sweet Maker, Cullen, what’s gotten into you? Has this little chaste templar image been a ruse this entire time? I’ve half a mind to think you were a desire demon.” 

He sighed as if he were pouting because he wasn’t immediately getting his way. “Are you really going to make me beg?” 

Dorian raised his brow in consideration. “Ooh, now there’s an idea I wouldn’t mind.” 

“ _Please_ , Dorian. I need you. I want you to use me. Plea –– ” There was no time to finish his sentence. His head was pushed forward, Dorian forcefully holding the back of it while clenching a fistful of his hair. Cullen’s tongue went to work once more, rapidly flicking the tip of it under the head of Dorian’s cock, savoring the flavor of precum as his hand stroked his balls. “Faster,” he mumbled.

Despite his best efforts, Dorian couldn’t help himself from moaning in satisfaction. He’d never had a lover so enthusiastic about pleasuring him. Usually he enjoyed a bit of foreplay before jumping into action; it always added something to the orgasm, the exchange of mutual touch and body heat that was incapable of being mimicked when he jerked off, no matter how hard he tried to trick himself. Cullen clearly knew what he wanted and Dorian wanted the same, so he tightened his grip on Cullen’s hair and began bucking his hips, slowly at first and then speeding up once the two of them found a comfortable rhythm.

Another low moan. He didn’t care about trying to be quiet anymore. This was amazing. The only thing he cared about was how incredible it felt to treat Cullen’s mouth as if it were some sort of toy designed only for his enjoyment. Kaffas, he’d have all of Skyhold watching right now if he could just to make them jealous.

It wasn’t long until he felt a familiar buildup and he knew he was teetering on the edge of an incredible climax. It had been weeks since he last came and he was eager to do so. “D-darling,” he stuttered, “you need to stop.” He tried to quit thrusting, Maker help him how he tried, but he couldn’t. “I’m going to… you have to…” As if in defiance, Cullen only licked faster, the tip of his tongue now circling the rim of his cock. He slowly massaged Dorian’s balls with just the right amount of pressure, making him moan again. 

He bit his lip a little too hard and clenched his legs, trying to delay as long as he could in case Cullen was merely waiting for the last possible moment before pulling away. It couldn’t be held off any longer. His gaze turned downwards. He wanted to watch when he came in Cullen’s mouth. With a loud groan ––

–– Dorian woke up, drenched in sweat as his chest heaved. He could almost hear how loudly his heart thumped. It had been a dream. Apprehensively, he raised his blanket and sighed in annoyance. “Kaffas.” He felt like a fucking teenager.

This was all Cullen’s fault for planting the idea in his head so late at night. Maker, he could kill him right now. But the dream… he never had anything like it before. It was so vivid and sensual that he could swear it was closer to a memory than a fantasy. He pulled off his blanket and was thankful that he had the good sense to have another stashed away in his trunk for colder nights. He’d clean up in the morning. For now, he just wanted to sleep.  
  
He rolled onto his side and held one of his pillows between his arms. It felt pathetic to do but it was his only option on nights when his loneliness got the better of him. Usually, he’d picture it not as a specific person in particular so much as just a body belonging to the man who cared for him, his face obscured. _Usually_. “Good night, Commander,” he whispered as he tightened his arms around his pillow.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm surprised at how difficult it was for me as a cis man to recreate a blowjob (or blowjob fantasy, technically) in text! Because it was a dream, I didn't want to write it as a proper sex scene, much less a realistic one (unless anyone out there *is* capable of getting hard and cumming within minutes, in which case, I salute you). I think the fast pace helps convey the weird nature of sex dreams.
> 
> I won't be updating daily but I felt bad that the last chapter was so short and emotionally heavy, so I wanted to add this lite-chapter both to compensate and give a better sense of how the fic will be as a whole. As always, comments are very much appreciated. Hope you enjoyed!


	3. I Lose Control

Meetings at the war table had a habit of dragging on forever, but this morning was especially grueling. Cullen hadn’t gotten much sleep last night. It wasn’t unusual, given his insomnia and migraines, but the addition of a hangover worsened the pain and grogginess tenfold. A fog seemed to linger in his mind, obscuring his thoughts from any sense of clarity. Trying to pay attention to anything being said was impossible.

He had been such an asshole last night. Dorian’s words still rang loudly in his head: _“You can pretend the question is easy all you like, but we both know this isn’t a matter of simply answering yes or no.”_ He was right, of course, but that only upset Cullen further. Why shouldn’t it be that simple? You either like someone or you don’t. Of course things are different if your genders aren’t exact diametric opposites, but _why_? Why did it have to be that way?

No one has ever made him feel the way that Dorian did. Was it love? Probably not –– or at least, not yet. He didn’t want to label the emotion because he didn’t know if any label was truly even applicable. All he wanted was the chance to explore what he felt, provided Dorian wanted to do the same as well. If the conversation had played out the way it should have, like a normal discussion between two adults, maybe it could have happened. Maybe instead of leaving, he would have stayed the night. Maybe he would have said something like, _“Oh Cullen, I didn’t know you felt like this. I feel it too. Let’s see where this goes.”_  
  
Instead, he acted like an impulsive and insensitive twit. Dorian probably wanted to end their friendship now, and honestly? He had every right. There had to be some way to make it up to him. A sincere apology surely wouldn’t be enough. 

A frighteningly loud clap next to his ears jolted him from his thoughts. “Maker’s Breath!” He jumped reflexively and stared at Leliana beside him. Josephine giggled before they made eye contact with each other, at which point she cleared her throat and looked back at the papers in front of her, trying to remain professional. 

“You aren’t paying attention,” Leliana defended before Cullen had the chance to speak. “What kind of advisor to our dear Inquisitor would I be if I didn’t make sure our Commander was staying focused?"

"I’ve been paying attention this entire time! Not all of us feel the need to constantly talk,” he scoffed. “A strategic mind requires quiet concentration. _That_ ’s how a commander stays focused.”

“I see,” she nodded. “My sincerest apologies, Commander. So then, since you’ve been paying attention this entire time, what’s your answer?”

He blushed, his cheeks now feeling red hot. “Well, I… I suppose it’s up to the Inquisitor.” He turned to the elven mage leading them and smiled warmly, as if gracefully giving him full permission to lead the conversation. “What do you think we should do?” 

“I appreciate the vote of confidence, Cullen, but I already deferred the matter to you. Five minutes ago.”

“Y-yes, it’s only that I –– ” He sighed. “Fine, I might be a little distracted this morning. Is that not permissible?” 

“Not when you’re leading an army,” Josephine mumbled in response. The conversation halted and she noticed they were all glancing at her. “Oh dear, I didn’t mean to say that out loud.”

The Inquisitor rolled his eyes, desperate to get the meeting over with so they could all go on with their day. “Alright, let’s all lay off the Commander. We were talking about the Venatori, Cullen. Will you please inform Dorian that we’ve located more of them? I know this is a very personal matter for him and I refuse for us to pursue this further without him being made aware; it simply isn’t right.”

“I concur,” Josephine nodded. “Lord Dorian’s assistance to the Inquisition has been most helpful. It’s only right that we return the favor.”

“I don’t disagree in the slightest,” he sighed, “but why exactly is this my duty?”

She raised her eyebrow in sincere confusion. “Are you two not close? I only thought… Do not worry, I can send a messenger along if you’d prefer.”  
  
“Trouble in paradise it would seem,” Leliana smirked to the Inquisitor. He shushed her with a grin.

Cullen clenched his fist. Leliana’s sharp wit was only valuable when it wasn’t used against him. “No, that’s perfectly fine. I’ll make sure he knows.”

* * *

It was late in the evening before he worked up the courage to finally face Dorian again. He tried preparing what he’d say on the walk to his room, but his stomach soured every time he thought about bringing up last night. Maybe not mentioning it would be the right thing to do. After all, he wasn’t there for a personal visit anyway. He was just relaying a message. No reason not to be in and out quickly.

He knocked on the door in the subtle pattern that only the two of them knew: four quick knocks followed by a light pause, then two heavy knocks. Neither was particularly fond of unexpected company unless it was from the other. It might have been childish, but it was also effective. He licked his lips nervously when he heard footsteps on the other side.

Dorian opened the door and sighed with relief. “Thank the Maker, I’ve been dodging Sera all day and I was certain she’d figured out our little code. We really ought to change it now. Can’t take the chance of it being compromised.” A heavy tension seemed to have entered his room along with Cullen, as if it clung to his clothes last night like some sort of foul odor. “I was beginning to think I wouldn’t see you today.” Indignation dripped from his voice.

So much for not mentioning it. “I’m so sorry, Dorian. I never should have ––”  
  
“No,” he snapped back, “you really shouldn’t have. Truthfully, I _am_ angry with you, springing such a loaded question on me when you were shitfaced. And then implying I’ve been mocking you? Honestly, Cullen…” He closed the door behind them. “But you have a right to be angry with me as well. I don’t fault you for the accusation. And had it come from anyone else, I doubt it would bother me so much. I just thought you knew me better than that.”

It was like he’d been kicked in his ribs and had the wind knocked out of him. He felt so small and weak in that moment. As if he wasn’t humiliated enough already. “I do know you better than that. I truly am sorry.” He wanted to leave. Badly. Being here was starting to suffocate him. 

“The Inquisitor wanted me to inform you that we’ve located more Venatori. He didn’t want to begin a proper operation without you being informed. So…” The silence that followed was unbearable. Neither of them could find a way to resolve it. His desire to leave now became a necessity. “I should go.”

“Yes, you probably should. But I’d prefer if you didn’t.” He sat on his bed and gestured for Cullen to sit beside him. “We’re two grown men. I’d wager that we’re perfectly capable of having an actual discussion instead of avoiding each other like emotional teenagers. What even prompted the question? I’ve been wondering it all day. The ale?”  
  
“No, not the ale. It was writing that letter, I suppose,” Cullen said with a shrug as he sat down. He was thankful that Dorian broke the tension for them. “Recounting everything her wife said about her reminded me that I have opportunities I take for granted; chances I just refuse to take. I’ve thought about asking you for awhile but I never worked up the nerve. I was too afraid of your reaction.”

“I hope you know that I care for you. You’re the only person I feel truly understands me other than…” Dorian trailed off, unable to complete his thought. Finishing the sentence meant admitting that it was true, and even months later, it’s something he couldn’t bring himself to do.

“Felix.” Dorian nodded solemnly. Seeing him so sad made his chest feel tight and painful. “I do know you care for me. I’ve never questioned that. I was just… When I said that last night, I was being an ass.” Anxious, he fiddled with his thumbs. “You don’t want to pursue this, do you? Whatever it is we might have.”  
  
“No, I do. I’d be lying if I said otherwise. It’s just that I don’t know that I can. Our friendship means a great deal to me. The idea of losing it is such a risk.”

“Our friendship means a great deal to me, too. And if whatever we tried didn’t work out, that wouldn’t change.”  
  
“It’s easy to say that now, but I’ve been in this situation before and believe me, it didn’t end well.” He sighed. “What is it you even want to try? What are you looking for?”

_Kissing you, everywhere. Spending our nights together, held by you. Giving you as much pleasure as I possibly can. Being with you is the only thing I’m looking for. I don’t care about anything else._ “Does it even matter?”

“I’m not trying to upset you, Cullen. I’ve just been a port in a storm one too many times. It’s not something I’m interested in being again.”

“Is that what you think I want from you? A fun night of distraction? Maker, you’re one to complain about someone not knowing you.”

“You have to understand, that’s what it’s like where I come from. It’s different than here. Everything takes place behind closed doors. Anything between two men… it’s about pleasure. It’s accepted, but taken no further. You learn not to hope for more. You’d be foolish to.”  
  
Cullen frowned. “I’m sorry. I didn’t realize.” He was unsure of what to say. Navigating the conversation now seemed impossible; there was the risk of everything blowing up in his face, no matter the direction he took it in. “Look, I know I didn’t handle this the best way Dorian, but it wasn’t a drunken impulse. You have no idea how I feel around you… All I want is a chance for us to see if this would work. Nothing more, nothing less.”

“I’m not going to be mad if you don’t want the same,” he continued. “Our friendship will be as important to me then as it is now. I jus –– ” And suddenly arms were wrapped around his neck, pulling him forward as Dorian leaned in and kissed him. His lips were soft and smooth, in stark contrast to his mustache. It felt coarse, brushing up against his face, and somehow it caused a sensation that was simultaneously both prickly and tender.

He’d never kissed another man and he thought it strange how it felt like the kisses he had before, albeit with the new sensation of facial hair. When he imagined kissing men, he always thought it would be different in some way. And it was, but not how he expected; because rather than being alien like he assumed, kissing Dorian felt just as natural as kissing the women he had in the past.

However, this was admittedly more enjoyable. He and Dorian had a deeper connection that went beyond the physical. Dorian was safe and warm, and being with him brought a sense of comfort and security that reminded him of home. Not home as in where he was raised or his current quarters at Skyhold, but rather the _feeling_ of home –– of being where he know he belonged. 

They kissed for what seemed like minutes before Dorian pulled away. “I do want the same,” he said as he ran his fingers through Cullen’s hair. “But I need you to be patient with me.”

“I’ll be nothing but,” Cullen nodded. He was still recovering from the moment that he’d been craving for so long. The gentle touch of Dorian’s lips lingered on his own and his hands were shaking from the rush. All he could focus on was the fluttering in his chest and the bliss that seemed to now radiate from it. He wondered if Dorian was feeling similarly. 

“Thank you.” He smiled when he noticed the look on Cullen’s face. It was painfully adorable, how awestruck he seemed. Truthfully, the kiss _was_ that good. He adored that Cullen didn’t feel the need to make it more intense in an attempt to have it lead to something further. It was light and simple, unlike the men he usually kissed. Maybe he wasn’t lying to him about wanting more than just sex.  
  
But he couldn’t count on that. He knew better. And as wonderful as finally kissing him felt, he was angry with himself for being weak and giving in. Cullen should have stayed off limits. Resisting him was just too difficult. He was sweet and caring, always taking an interest in anything he rambled on about. The sights of Tevinter that he missed so dearly, the occasional bit of gossip he’d been told by Josephine, academic discussions on arcane texts that no one other than mages would care about. Cullen didn’t just sit and listen; he participated in conversation, asked Dorian to explain and elaborate on things he didn’t understand, countered a story he’d just finished telling with one of his own.

They sat for hours a day with each other, playing chess and doing nothing but talking and talking, yet they never ran out of things to say. And yes, Cullen was attractive. Extremely so. He was ridiculously strong and handsome, like a dashing knight out of a children’s fairytale. He suddenly he wanted Dorian, and Dorian wanted him despite hating himself for it. Maybe they both knew about their mutual attraction to each other this entire time, just below the surface. Maybe that’s why, despite it being a surprise, it wasn’t hard for either of them to understand.

“You’re…” Cullen fumbled with his words the moment he began to speak. “You’re quite good at that, you know?”

“Why whatever do you mean, Commander?” Dorian smiled, feigning ignorance. He wanted to hear him say it. There was nothing cuter than watching him get embarrassed.

“Well… Kissing men.” His eyes widened at his mistake. “I–er, kissing me. I mean, not only kissing me, but… um, I’m sure you’re very good at kissing anyone. Not that you would go around kissing _anyone_ , just… Oh, Maker,” he whispered to himself. This was a disaster.

“Cullen?” Dorian asked softly.

“Y-yes?”

“Tell me, are you going to do this every time we kiss? Because I really don’t think your heart is in good enough condition to withstand that.” Before he could respond, Dorian kissed him again, very briefly. “See? It’s possible to do it and then breathe normally afterwards.”

“It seems I have a lot to learn,” Cullen smirked.

“Thank the heavens you have me. I’m an excellent teacher.”

“Unfortunately, I’m awful at learning. Sometimes I even neglect my studies completely. I’m a terribly naughty student.”

“Well,” Dorian said as he pulled Cullen in for another kiss, “thankfully some behaviors don’t need to be corrected.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "But spacecatsquad," you say after finishing this chapter. "If they're already together, why are you tagging this as a slow burn? Where's the hurt to go with this comfort?" 
> 
> Enjoy that confusion while it lasts. <3


	4. Falling in Love is So Bittersweet

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tw for PTSD and brief mentions of homophobia. I have C-PTSD myself and drew on my own experiences when exploring Dorian's trauma, so heads up that my description of flashbacks (and the very sudden way Dorian has one) might be triggering.

Dorian had learned two very surprising facts about Cullen in the first night of their affair: he loved cuddling more than kissing, and he tended to snore. Loudly. It woke him up every single time. He’d gently nudge Cullen awake and tell him to roll over, which had a varying rate of success. Sometimes he would mumble an apology and shift to his side, and sometimes he slept right through every poke and hushed whisper of his name.

It was highly annoying, though like everything with Cullen, it somehow still had an adorable charm. Having someone to ruin his sleep was kind of nice. Except for tonight. Cullen had such a stressful day and Dorian didn’t have the heart to wake him. Instead, he stared up at the ceiling, contemplating the last few weeks.

When was the last time he _actually_ slept with another man every night? His first and only boyfriend so man years ago, come to think of it. The one he fell in love with, who became his entire world, who swore to him they’d always be together. The one who said they should tell their parents the truth. The one who broke his heart by choosing to go through with the marriage arranged by his family and following their demand of never seeing him again. The reason his father tried to…

No. It didn’t matter. There was no reason to think about it. The past was the past, had had to remind himself of that. Every time his thoughts wandered and stirred up the memories he tried so hard to forget, he felt like he became a different person. It was as if his mind and body disconnected from each other. His body went through the motions in a lifeless way, but his mind began to drown in the panic, fear, and pain that surrounded him. He’d try to claw and fight his way back to reality but always got pulled back, his memories dragging him down further and further until he could no longer escape.  
  
They transported and trapped him in the moments that were branded upon his soul. Forcing him to relive his suffering over and over. Somehow he always escaped and found his way back, but it took so long to be whole again. And even when he finally was, he still felt numb and cold inside. A walking corpse, a husk of the happy man he was before –– who he deserved to be. Having this experience in the middle of the night while Cullen slept beside him, blissfully unaware of what he was going through, made him so embarrassed. Damn his snoring for waking him, and damn himself for even conjuring up thoughts of the past. 

He hated this. It had been so many years ago, it shouldn’t still hold such power over him. Was it not enough he had to endure it all in the first place? Must he be haunted by it for the rest of his life? Is this the future he had to look forward to, tiptoeing around the risk of being thrust back into so much terror and pain at any moment? He had suffered more than anyone should in a lifetime. Why wouldn’t it just stop? He didn’t even realize he was crying until he felt the warm tears rolling down his cheeks, and he only became aware of his whimpering when Cullen let out a groggy moan from being woken by it.

Cullen rubbed his eyes, still half-asleep but concerned. “Dorian?”

He didn’t say anything. He couldn’t. The lump in his throat was too big, threatening to choke him if he tried to swallow to let himself speak. His chest was heaving so heavily and rapidly. This was humiliating. If this had to happen, couldn’t it have at least waited until he was alone?

“Hey, look at me.” Cullen took his hand and pulled him onto his side so the two of them were face-to-face. He wrapped an arm around him, gently rubbing his back. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.” His voice was raspy and weak. He needed a drink of water so badly. “I’m fine.”

“You’re clearly not. Do you want to –– ”

“Oh, for fuck’s sake, I said that I’m fine!” He shouted so loudly that it startled him as much as it did Cullen. A normal person would have apologized immediately. But he wasn’t normal; he was a mess of a man that was made up of jagged, shattered parts. He was pathetic. Apologizing was the last thing he wanted to do. Instead, he broke from Cullen’s grip and rolled on his back, clenching his eyes shut.

“Okay,” Cullen said softly, his voice understanding. “Would you be more comfortable if I left?”

 _Yes, I would be more comfortable if you left. Leave and don’t come back. Let me be alone like I’m meant to be. You don’t deserve this._ “No.” He was so exhausted and just wanted to sleep. It would be impossible without Cullen there beside him. He needed his touch, the heat from his body, his loud snoring.

Cullen moved closer to him, putting an arm around his chest again and nestling his head into the crook of his neck. “Then I won’t go anywhere.” Soon, they both fell back fell asleep.

The next morning was shockingly quiet. He had braced himself for an onslaught of questions or, worse, statements of pity. But they never came. Cullen mentioned nothing –– not because he was avoiding the situation and trying to pretend it didn’t happen, but because he knew Dorian didn’t want to talk about it. To say he appreciated it would be an understatement.

“I think people are starting to get suspicious of us,” Cullen said as he put on his armor. Today began with another war table meeting. He dreaded the inevitable boredom of sitting through it. “Have you seen my boots? I’m missing one.”

“Check under the bed.” Dorian took a sip of his tea, welcoming its soothing, relaxing warmth. He folded the top corner of the page from the _Swords & Shields_ book he had been loaned. “Honestly, I just don’t know what Cassandra sees in this drivel. This is the second time I’ve tried to read it and I can’t bring myself to get past the third chapter. It’s not hard to understand why Varric himself doesn’t even enjoy it.”

“It can’t be _that_ bad.” He dropped to his knees and reached under the bed, triumphantly pulling out his other boot. “You were right!”

“I always am,” Dorian smirked. “I take it you’re concerned about these suspicions?”

Cullen snorted. “What? No, why would I be? I’m just unsure of what to tell people. I don’t know what to call us, I guess.”

Right. Things were different than in Tevinter. Certainly, there were still bigots –– there always would be, wherever you went –– but it wasn’t as surprising here to see two men or women together. It wasn’t common, but people rarely cared much. It was strange, not being forced to hide that part of his identity unless he simply chose to. He wondered if he’d ever get used to it. In Tevinter, a lover would most certainly be concerned about the truth of a relationship getting out.

He didn’t really know what to call their relationship either. Lovers was apt, but it also felt too insincere. And anything more than that, Dorian simply didn’t want to entertain the idea of. “Do we have to label it?”

“I suppose not,” Cullen said with the slightest hint of a frown. “It’s just that it’s been almost a month. I thought by now we might refer to each other as… you know…”  
  
“I can assure you that I don’t.” He most certainly did. _Please, don’t say it. Change the topic. Leave good enough alone, Cullen, please. Take the hint._

“Boyfriends.” 

_No. No, we aren’t. It complicates everything._ But his heart… Maker, how he wanted to say yes to that so badly. To introduce Cullen –– dashing and caring and charming and gorgeous Cullen –– as his boyfriend when meeting someone new. To kiss him without fear of being caught, to be able to talk so openly about him. The specification of their relationship would almost feel tangible. It would carry weight. It would be real. 

His stomach churned. He reached for his tea, trying his hardest to be nonchalant, but the cup visibly shook in his hand. What did he say to this? To be stuck in the clichéd dilemma of following your brain or your heart at his age was laughable. If Felix were still around for him to tell this to, he’d never heard the end of the ridicule. 

Cullen clearly sensed his discomfort. “But you’re right, we don’t have to label it. Whatever we have, I’m grateful we do.” He kissed him, and Dorian hated him for doing so. It seemed unfair for Cullen to be so understanding, to concede on the things he obviously wanted without a fuss. He deserved so much more than what Dorian could give him. “Well, I’m going to be late to the meeting, and the last thing I need this morning is Leliana having more ammunition against me. Shall I come here this evening or would you rather sleep in my quarters?”

“On that horrid sack of rocks you call a mattress? I’m afraid I’ll have to pass.”

“Ouch,” Cullen winced playfully. “Your words cut me deeper than a bandit’s knife, Lord Pavus.”

“What can I say? I’m a man of many talents, Commander,” he smiled. “Do try and have a good day, darling. And tell Leliana not to bully you unless I’m there to watch and cheer her on.” 

He sighed the second Cullen closed the door behind him. His head was pounding. He wished he had someone to talk to about everything. He had a few friends here, yes and they were friends he cherished deeply. But never opened up to them before in the way that he needed to now. What was he to do, stroll up to Krem or Josephine and say, _“Are you free? I’d love to unpack all of my emotional baggage with you. I hope you're a big fan of sad stories that don’t have happy endings. While we’re on the subject, can I solicit dating advice?”_

Even telling Cullen was impossible. He didn’t want his pity, or to be thought of differently by him. The fact was that he had no one to turn to. It was incredible how he managed to have a relationship with Cullen and be surrounded by friends and still feel completely isolated and alone.

There was, of course, the Inquisitor. He had been with him when he confronted his father, had respected him enough to warn him about the letter in advance. He knew about what his father tried to do to him, though not the full extent of the matter, and he was easy to talk to. Dorian always enjoyed his company. But it hardly seemed fair to dump his problems onto someone who quite literally had the weight of the world on his shoulders. Not to mention that Josephine would most likely revoke his access to the wine cellar completely for stressing her boyfriend out even further.

He envied the two of them, so in love with each other that it teetered precariously between the line of adorable and disgusting. That’s what Cullen wanted –– he knew that for certain. He had mentioned it in conversation months ago before the two of them even started… whatever it is they were doing. And truthfully, he wanted it, too. He wanted to be deemed as Cullen’s boyfriend and to deem Cullen as his. So if both of them wanted it then why was he unable to say yes?

The quiet day he had planned never came to fruition. No matter how much he tried to distract himself, his indecision scratched at the back of his mind. He couldn’t make it three pages in a book without being reminded that he shouldn’t keep putting this off. By the early afternoon, he’d grown so frustrated that he realized the only way to get a break from his anxiousness was to take a nap. Just an hour or two of sleep would do him some good.

He woke up with a yawn and rubbed his temples. His head somehow felt even worse than before. A wave of nausea hit him when he tried to sit up. No matter how many times his episodes happened, he always forgot how badly it impacted his body afterward, like he was experiencing the most intense version of the flu humanly possible.

“How are you feeling?”

Cullen was laying beside him, turned on his side. He’d been watching him sleep. How long had he been here? “Bad.” Another wave of nausea hit him. He tried to push it down, but couldn’t stop himself from retching. Admitting defeat to himself, he laid back down. “What time is it?”

“It’s fairly late.” He lightly ran his finger across Dorian’s chest in circles. “I think it would be best for you to go back to bed. Unless you’re hungry. I could go get you something from the kitchen.”

“No, that’s alright. If I eat anything I doubt it'll stay down for long.” He clenched his eyes shut. Any bit of light, even just from a candle, seared his head when he got like this. “I suppose I owe you an explanation,” he sighed.

“You don’t owe me anything, Dorian.” Cullen scooted closer to him. “It’s not my business unless you want it to be. I’m here for you regardless.”

He wanted to cry. For all he knew, he actually might have been. Cullen was too good for him; too understanding, too sweet, too patient. The perfect person to finally open up to. He just had to take the plunge and do it.  
  
“No, I want to.” He took a deep breath, his eyes remaining closed. “I’ve told you before that things between two men in Tevinter was purely for pleasure. Growing up, I never thought that there could be more than that, even when I knew I was… different. I had accepted it was only possible for men and women to have that type of relationship.

“Then I turned 20, and I met someone. I had bedded men before then, mind you, but the way I felt around him was incredible. Sex didn't factor into it at all. I was addicted to whatever it was that I was feeling. I’m not even sure if I fully understood it was love at the time. I thought about him constantly. He made me happy for the first time in my life, and he told me I did the same for him. Our parents had already made marriage arrangements for us –– that’s what they do in Tevinter, constantly try to create the ‘perfect mage’ by merging bloodlines. It's vile.

“Neither of us wanted to live a life that was a lie and robbed us of our happiness. We decided that we’d outright refuse. He told me that it would be worth the risk. He promised me that we’d always be together. And like a fucking idiot, I believed him.” His hands were shaking terribly. He cleared his throat. “So I told my parents. It went about as well as you’d expect. They said things to me they’ll never be able to take back, and I gleefully returned the favor. 

“I stormed out. Didn’t even pack anything. I told myself it didn’t matter. Either the two of us would leave as we had planned, or if by some odd chance his parents weren’t terrible people, perhaps I’d be able to stay with them. And I knocked and knocked until he finally opened the door. He told me his parents were right, that the idea of us being together was ridiculous. And I suppose he decided the wound he gave me wasn’t good enough, because then he said he wasn’t allowed to see or speak to me again. Didn't say goodbye. Didn’t even apologize. Just slammed the door in my face, Cullen.

“So I slinked back to my parent's house with my tail between my legs like a pathetic piece of shit. We pretended as if nothing had happened. I convinced myself that they were coming around to the idea of accepting me. But.” He opened his eyes. They were so full of tears he could barely see. Talking about this was so painful. But it was almost over. He'd come this far. He had to finish.

“But a month later…. My father, who _always_ spoke ill of blood magic, who instilled in me how _terrible_ it was… tried, unsuccessfully, to use it himself. He tried to ‘fix’ me, as if he were treating some illness. He tried to make me like women rather than men, so I’d go through with the marriage they'd arranged, finally have a kid to keep perfecting the bloodline like I was supposed to. He had to ensure his legacy. Hated me so much for being different that he resorted to blood magic on his own fucking son. And I know it happened so long ago but sometimes it feels like it’s happening to me now, and…”  
  
And he broke down. Completely. He became a mess of tears and whimpers, sobbing so intensely that he felt absolutely disgusting. Cullen said nothing, instead simply holding him while he cried. As mortifying as it all was, finally telling someone was like removing a heavy weight he didn’t even know he was carrying.


	5. With Every Heartbeat

“I’ve been thinking,” Dorian said as he finished setting up their chessboard. It was raining terribly and almost uncomfortably cold, leaving the garden all but deserted. Against his better judgement, Cullen had successfully goaded him into playing outside, claiming the weather was romantic. He vehemently disagreed. Losing a foot to the cold hardly seemed like a memorable romantic activity.

Cullen moved a pawn forward. “About?” He shivered at a gust of wind. On second thought, maybe Dorian had been right about playing outside being a bad idea. Playing by a warm cozy fire would be lovely right now.

“Us.” Dorian hesitated before deciding on moving one of his knights. He’d become too predictable and needed to change up his approach.

“That’s… rather ominous. Is something wrong?”

“No, not particularly. But I feel I’ve been a bit selfish.”

“Well, I don’t think that’s true.”

“Well, I _do_. You’re a patient man and I’m grateful for that. But things haven’t been very fair between us. We both know that. It’s just been a horribly difficult time for me, trying something like this again. I didn’t think I ever would, to tell you the truth,” he sighed. “What you mentioned the other morning, about referring to each other as boyfriends… Is that still important to you?”

“I’m not really sure,” he shrugged. “Certainly I would want it, but not enough that I’d want you to need to force yourself to use it.”

“I’d hardly call it forcing myself. You make it sound like I consider the term so ghastly that even saying it is some form of personal torture.”

“Ah, but you _would_ be forcing yourself. That’s something the both of us know as well.” He captured one of Dorian’s pawns en passant. “It makes you uncomfortable, so I’m fine with not using it.”

Dorian rubbed his temples. “Maker, Cullen, you have to stop being so passive about what you want.”

His brow furrowed in surprise at the abrupt hostility. “I’m not being passive, I’m being understanding. There’s a difference.”

“I agree, to an extent. But there’s a limit.”

“And I’m starting to gather that I’ve apparently exceeded yours.”

“I just expected your response to be different, that’s all. It seemed important to you at the time and I don’t understand why that’s suddenly not the case anymore. I thought if I brought it up then we’d have a proper conversation about it.”

He scoffed in disbelief. “Why are you being so combative about this? _You_ specifically told me you didn’t want to label us.”

“I am not being combative! _You_ specifically wanted otherwise. You even pouted! I simply think you should stand firm if something is important to you, that’s all. You don’t always have to be the one to compromise; it makes you seem like a pushover.”

“I did not pout!” Cullen shouted. The few remaining in the garden were staring at them now, but he didn’t care. “Tell me, what exactly would you rather I do? Throw a fit like a child over something so arbitrary until I get my way?”

“Stop being so defensive about this!” he shouted in return. “You’re not listening to what I’m saying, I only want you to… You know what? Never mind, it’s not important. Trying to talk about this was clearly a mistake.” He returned his attention back to their game and went to move a pawn but Cullen got up from his chair.

“I think it’s best if we continue this another day.”

“Alright, fine. What would you rather we do instead?”

“Actually, I’d rather be alone. For a while.”

“Oh Cullen, don’t be like that. I wasn’t trying to upset you,” he frowned. “Can’t we just ––– ”

He was doing his best to deescalate the argument, but it seemed like his tonal flip-flopping clearly only upset Cullen further. “Forget about it? Is that what you were going to ask? Normally, yes, I would agree. But I’d hate to be such a pushover.” He walked past him, the heavy stomps of his footsteps themselves somehow sounding as angry as his tone of voice.

Dorian pounded his fists on the table in frustration, scattering the chess pieces onto the ground. He finally noticed that they had an audience watching them this entire time. “Are you going to mind your own business, or shall I charge all of you admission for the private show that you can’t seem to take your eyes off of!” They quickly looked away as he stormed off.

When he got back to his quarters, he slammed the door so loudly that it was probably heard even by those down in the tavern. He wanted to be angry with Cullen so badly. He wanted to be furious at him, to curse his name, to accuse him of being nothing but a rude prick. But he knew the only person to be mad at was himself.

It was just a spat. Quarreling with each other from time to time was inevitable; it shouldn’t upset him this badly. But it did. All he wanted to do was explain to him that didn’t need to keep silent and go along with everything just for his sake. He couldn’t even do something that simple without being condescending for no reason.

Telling Cullen what happened had been a mistake. He knew better. It hadn’t been fear trying to dissuade him, but common sense. Why didn’t he listen just to it? He was certain that Cullen felt he had no need to push back because he was afraid of upsetting him. He viewed him as some fragile baby bird at risk of dying if it wasn’t handled with the utmost care. It was obvious to him.

There was nothing in the world that Dorian hated more than being pitied. He didn’t want anyone’s pity. He despised having it, in fact. The Inquisitor was still clueless about the full extent of what happened to him, yet he immediately began to treat Dorian differently when they returned from Redcliffe. They no longer exchanged sarcastic little barbs back and forth or teased each other as they had before; instead, he’d only ever come to speak to him for a quiet game of chess or engage in dreadful small talk. _“How’s the book, Dorian? Is there anything I can do for you, Dorian? Is everything going well, Dorian?”_

Just the surface level of his past had completely altered their friendship for the worse. He was a grown man, he didn’t require the type of careful attention you’d give to a child who’s constantly on the verge of crying. And sure, maybe it was coming from a place of good intentions, but the fact was that those intentions shouldn’t have even changed. All it did was alienate him and make him feel ashamed for letting people know what he’s been through.

Having the same thing happen with Cullen was even worse. The poor man was already so patient with him and had compromised on things Dorian should at least have attempted to do so as well; now, he denied his wants completely for the sake of appeasing him. Would it ever die out? Would their relationship go back to normal? Or was this the new normal now? Because if it was, then he couldn’t handle it. He refused to.

Maybe Cullen needed something else –– _someone_ else, come to think of it. Someone who was ready for love instead of terrified by it. Someone that wasn’t so fucking broken to the point of not being able to function like a normal person. Someone who actually deserved his kindness and comfort.

Besides, it should be an easy problem to remedy; technically, it wouldn’t be a breakup. They weren’t dating. Or at the very least, he didn’t think they were. Cullen would cry and pout as usual when something bad happened to him, but he’d get over it. He could bring his love life back up to his own speed. He’d see the freedom offered by not wasting his time on a man who wasn’t worthy of him. He’d thank him in the end, really.

Though what would Dorian get out of this exchange? Relief in knowing he was no longer hurting someone he cared about, he supposed. But he’d also miss everything between them. The thought of trying to fall asleep without his arms around Cullen every night made his guts churn. He’d constantly crave that rush of euphoria whenever they kissed, the rush that made it seem like each time was their very first despite doing it so often that it began to feel like they were both made specifically for the other. And could he really live without the sense of happiness that had slowly become as natural to him as breathing?

This was all splitting him in two. Making a decision like this shouldn’t be so hard. Why did everything about Cullen make him so indecisive? Having apprehension over every single thing was ridiculous. He wanted him. That’s it. It was that simple, except for some reason it wasn’t, and he had no idea how Cullen could possibly stand him when his own contradictions annoyed him this much.

Ending it was the right choice. It was the responsible choice. It had to be. Just tell him this was no longer working out, tell him they should end on good terms, tell him he couldn’t keep this up any longer, tell him _anything_ so long as he was actually told _something_.

Yet he couldn’t think of anything to say. Every reason to justify doing so was paper-thin. He didn’t want to end what they had. Deep down he knew that if anything, he only wanted to turn what they into something more. He looked out of the window by his bed. The rain shower had now turned into a proper storm. A clap of thunder boomed and a bright flash of lightning followed, briefly illuminating the entirety of Skyhold before it vanished into darkness once more. He didn’t want to be here alone. He didn’t want to be anywhere alone.

Cullen was woken up from his nap by a familiar noise at his door: four quick knocks, a slight pause, and then two heavy knocks. Of course. He didn’t answer, but the pattern was repeated twice more. “I’ve come to apologize,” Dorian finally shouted from outside.

He sighed and opened the door a crack. “I’m not in the mood for hearing an apology right now.”

“I can understand that. And I’ll leave if you want me to. But,” he said as waved a sparkling gold box for Cullen to see, “would you feel like hearing my apology if I gave you these pretentiously overpriced Orlesian chocolates that I stole from Josephi –– that I bought for you myself. Legally. Without theft.”

He pursed his lips and thought it over before letting Dorian in. “Fine. But only because I haven’t had dinner. And you don’t get to have any.”

“I wouldn’t dream of it. Chocolate is bad for my complexion.” He took the towel he’d already been handed without needing to ask and pat his hair dry. Thankfully it also gave him an excuse to try and find his words. “I don’t blame you for being angry with me.”

“I’m not angry with you.” Cullen popped one of the chocolates into his mouth. He was almost overwhelmed by the burst of caramel hidden in the center when he bit into it ––his favorite flavor. Damn him. “Alright, I’m a _little_ angry with you,” he said between chews. “You know, I think you might be the only person I’ve ever met who throws a tantrum because someone was respecting his wishes.”

“If you think that was one of my tantrums, you’ll be in for a rude shock when you finally see me have one.” Cullen didn’t laugh, and suddenly he understood how Cole must feel constantly. He cleared his throat. “It’s as I said before. I know I’ve been selfish and unfair. I wasn’t trying to upset you earlier and I certainly wasn’t trying to insult you. I just worry you’re giving up on things you want because of what I told you the other night and if that’s true in the slightest, I’d hate myself for forcing you into that position.

“Disgustingly cliché as it may be, I’m truly not good at having something substantial with someone. It’s hard for me. I know I’m not handling it the best way. And I must confess that after our shouting match, I debated if maybe stopping whatever it is we’re doing would be the best thing for us. Or for you, at least.”

He held up his finger to shush Cullen before he could interject. “And for a bit, that had been my intention. I tried to prepare some sort of reasoning to build a speech off of, but I just… I couldn’t, Cullen. Because every single time I thought about how to tell you I wanted to end this, I was reminded of how much it wasn’t true. It’s the furthest thing from the truth. I don’t want it at all. Which I suppose is still rather selfish of me depending on how you look at it.”

Cullen took another piece of candy from the box. “And that’s when you stole the chocolates?”

“And that’s when I decided to apologize.”

“And _then_ you stole the chocolates.”

“And _then_ I came into possession of the chocolates through mysterious and incomprehensible means that we’ll never be entirely certain of, yes.”

He rolled his eyes. “Dorian, the only reason I didn’t push back is that it’s the least of my concerns. You’re more hung up on it than I am. My opinion of you hasn’t changed at all, for better or for worse. I do understand your worries but trust me when I say that they’re unwarranted.”

Oh. In hindsight, maybe making such brazen assumptions about another person’s motives was a bad idea.

“People are more than whatever they’ve been forced to endure. I know that more than anyone,” he continued. “I appreciate that you told me and I want you to be able to talk about it with me whenever you need to. But it doesn’t have any bearing on what I think of you. You’re the same man to me now as you were before.”

“And what kind of man is that, if I might ask?”

“A very gorgeous and charismatic asshole who’s too witty and stubborn for his own good,” Cullen smiled.

“I must say, your accuracy is astounding! You truly are a man after my own heart, Commander.”

“Yes, well… one day I hope to finally get it.”

The conversation lulled unexpectedly. Dorian knew what he wanted to say, but it was so hard to bring himself to. It would be an intense moment of vulnerability that would make him feel incredibly small. But he had to be honest. He owed it to himself as much as he did Cullen. “You should be my boyfriend and I should be yours. I do agree that it’s ultimately trivial but I don’t care.”

“Dorian, I’m telling y –– ”

“What you’re telling me is that I don’t need to do it for you. And I’m not. I’m asking for me. It’s what I want. Provided you want it too, of course.”

Cullen looked at him, trying to find something in his facial expression to indicate he was lying. But it remained soft and sincere no matter how long they continued to lock eye contact. “Okay,” he said. “I want that, too.”

They stared at each other in silence for a while. It didn’t come from not knowing what to say, but rather knowing they didn’t have to say anything. Cullen loved that about them. They could simply enjoy the company of one another without saying a single word. The sound of the rain against the windows and occasional roars of thunder as they sat together.

Soon the sweets were gone and they were both getting sleepy. Cullen climbed into his bed and Dorian laid next to him as per their usual routine, though admittedly it was rare that they ever slept in his room. He stared up at the ceiling. “ _Every single time I thought about how to tell you I wanted to end this, I was reminded of how much it wasn’t true. It’s the furthest thing from the truth. I don’t want it at all.”_

He didn’t want it at all either. Dorian’s arms wrapped around him and squeezed tightly. “Goodnight, Dorian,” he smiled.

“Goodnight, Cullen.” He paused. “By the way, if a certain diplomat were to ask you if you’ve seen a box of her Orlesian chocolates… Do let her know it was probably Varric that took them.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's the usual spiel of me reminding you that comments and kudos are appreciated (the former even more). This chapter went through a lot of rewrites. It was originally much longer and focused on something different, but I decided we needed some happier narrative beats so I scrapped almost everything. I'm glad Dorian is starting to unthaw a little because I've been wanting to lean into his humor but jokes didn't fit into the last four chapters. It'll be nice to be able to write that aspect of his personality from now on.


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